by A. M. Wilson
“What do you mean there was an incident?”
“Keep your voice down. She’s asleep.”
“Tell me what happened, then.”
“I don’t think you get the state she was in when you left. She thought you abandoned her. Got word that fucker ratted you out and took off without her. She was hurting, man.”
“So what does that mean? What are you trying to tell me?”
The voices drift up around me, but I can’t make sense of who’s talking. The words paint pictures within my mind, and I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or remembering.
There’s a sigh. “I’m telling you she had a moment. She got a knife, and I wasn’t quick enough. Just one cut, but that shit was scary as fuck.”
“Which one?”
“Which what?”
“Which wrist?”
“Left.”
The pillow I’m lying on is hard, and I shift slightly to get more comfortable. Trey and Jacoby keep talking around me, but I’m too tired to open my eyes. I just want to sleep.
“Fuck.” That was Jacoby, his voice a low hiss.
“I’m sorry, man. Is she getting any help?”
There’s a silence, and I drift further away into a dreamless sleep.
The sensation of movement pulls me from my slumber. I’m jostled slightly, but Jacoby’s strong arms and chest cradle me as he carries me through the house.
“What’s going on?” I ask, groggily.
“Shh. I’m just carrying you to bed.”
“Okay,” I mumble, snuggling deeper into his warmth.
Jacoby pulls back the covers and gently places me in bed. I keep my eyes closed, but I can hear him moving about the room. A door opening, a rustle of fabric, light footsteps on the carpet. Then he’s back, and he’s slowly working off my jeans and shirt. I’d help, but I’m so sleepy. I let him take care of me, even though I should be taking care of him. He shimmies a pair of sweats up my legs and pulls one of his shirts over my head until it swallows my torso. It’s soft and warm, and smells like him.
The bed shifts as he crawls in, and then he’s moving me into his arms again. I scoot closer until my head rests on his bare pectoral and his arm is wrapped around my body; his fingers running along my shoulder. Turning my face, I press a soft kiss to his chest.
“Sorry I woke you. I thought this would be more comfortable than the couch,” he says quietly.
“I’m comfortable anywhere as long as it’s with you.”
We lapse into silence, the only sound is our slow, deep breaths.
“Did Trey leave?” I ask, finding it difficult to fall back asleep now that I’m content in his arms again.
“Yeah. He had to get home. He only came over to make sure you were okay.”
“That was nice of him.”
“Mmhm. Do you want to talk, or do you want to go back to sleep?” Jacoby asks. But the way he’s asking makes me feel like he has something to say.
“I’m awake now. We can talk if you want.”
“I thought you should know, Trey told me what happened last night. I didn’t want you to worry about having to tell me. And I’m not upset with you, Sweetheart. I completely understand. I’m just so sorry I put you through that. It was my actions that led to yours.”
Now, I’m wide awake. I lift up onto my elbow so I can peer down into Jacoby’s handsome face. My hair creates a dark curtain around us that only adds to the privacy of the moment. I trace the crease of confusion in his brow with my index finger.
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t take on unnecessary guilt because of my actions. I’m the one who couldn’t keep calm. I freaked out, and what I did is on me. Not you.”
“Tatum,” he groans. One of his large hands cups my cheek. “My beautiful girl. If I hadn’t left the way I did, you wouldn’t have worried. It is my fault.”
I silence him with a kiss on his lips. “No. I let what happened with Wyatt get to me. I thought the worst, and it brought so many emotions crashing down that I couldn’t deal. But it isn’t your fault. Please, don’t fight me on this, Jacoby. It’s not your fault.”
His deep brown eyes flick back and forth between my hazel ones, and I hold his stare. I’m begging him with my eyes to believe me and to let it go. We can’t change what happened, but that doesn’t mean we have to dwell on it.
Isn’t that what our relationship has been all about? Both of us had issues in our past we’ve been fighting to deal with. Jacoby ran away from his, while I tried to cut mine away. Literally. But something happened when we came together. Somehow, the two of us, with our messed up pasts, have helped the other heal. We found solace in one another that we were missing when we were alone.
“Speaking of Wyatt, did anything come about while I was gone?” Jacoby asks, pulling me from my thoughts. I don’t want to talk about Wyatt, but I get it over with so we can move on and leave it behind us.
We lie in the bed we’ve been sharing night after night, and I fill him in on everything that happened while he was gone. I retell what happened last night, even though Trey already filled him in. I want him to hear it from me. Then I describe what happened this afternoon. His face contorts with anger even though he tries to hide it, and I can tell he’s upset with himself for leaving me the way he did. I climb onto his strong body and clasp my limbs tightly around him. His hands slide down my ribcage to my waist, finally coming to rest on my ass.
“Let your anger go. He’ll get what’s coming to him. I agreed to file a police report.”
“You did?” Jacoby asks, his eyes widening in shock.
“I did. We’ll take care of it tomorrow morning.”
“Thank fuck,” he replies. “That fucker will get what’s coming to him.”
“He will. And we won’t ever have to worry about him again. Mr. Stephenson believed my story. That you and I developed a friendly relationship after what happened. As long as we’re careful these next few weeks, we’ll be just fine.”
“As long as you’re by my side, I’ll be more than fine.”
Our foreheads touch, and our eyes are closed. We’re shrouded by darkness in the room, but we light up each other from within. I am the flame, and he is the torch. He carries me through the darkness, and when he’s in the dark, I light his path.
“Hey, Jacoby?” I call through the darkness, even though he’s right here, his hard body is beneath mine. His hands tighten on the spot where my hips meet my thighs, and he replies, “Yeah?”
I exhale slowly, trying to calm my jittery nerves. This shouldn’t make me so nervous, but it does. I’ve never uttered these words to another soul in my life, and the thought of rejection turns my blood cold. But this is Jacoby. I don’t need to be afraid. So instead, I smile and place a lingering, soft kiss on his lips.
“I love you.”
Jacoby’s breath comes out as a rush, and his arms slide around my back, crushing me to his chest. His mouth fits into the space next to my ear, and he whispers there, “You love me?”
“I do,” I reply.
“Say it again,” he commands, and his breathing turns ragged.
“I love you, Jacoby. I think I’ve loved you all along, but I was too determined not to see it. You’re the first person I’ve ever loved. It didn’t come to me easily. I had to fight for it, but now that I have it, it’s mine.” I shriek as I’m suddenly flipped onto my back as Jacoby rolls us over. He presses his lips to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. He just holds them there, like two puzzle pieces fitted together.
“God, Sweetheart. I love you, too. So damn much.”
My heart sighs. “Show me. Make love to me, Jacoby.”
And he does.
We don’t get much sleep. We spend the night worshipping each other’s bodies with our hands and our lips. We tangle ourselves beneath the soft, gray sheets until the shadows fade back into their recesses, and the sun’s rays peek through the window. Then we get up for school and begin our routine, which will continue for the next few weeks, until we are free to
be together without the repercussions.
Finding our love wasn’t simple. It pushed our morals and the rules of society. It was forbidden and different, but it was ours. We fought against our attraction, going as far as to push one another away when things got tough. But we came to a point where it wasn’t possible to fight any longer. The battle was already won in our favor; it was won before we even stepped onto the field. Love like ours can’t be ignored. It strengthens and grows with every obstacle thrown in its path. It might have taken months to come to terms with our feelings. But in the end, there’s no denying it.
Our love is indisputable.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Where to begin? First of all, I need to thank my husband. You have encouraged me from the very beginning when my dreams were nothing more than late night ramblings. Those ramblings kept growing until the first night I sat down with my laptop and began to write. You continued to support me through hours of helping with the kids so I could lock myself away in my room and focus on my book. You are my love and my life.
My children, L & C, thank you for being a bright spot when I was feeling frustrated. And thank you for having the ability to play quietly when I really needed to get something done. Mama loves you, babies.
A million thanks to TOJ Publishing for my cover reveal, blitz, release party, and a wealth of information. A special thanks to Kim Black at TOJ for my beautiful cover. You have a true talent. I don’t know how you made sense of what I wanted from my horrible description, but it’s like you pulled the image straight from my brain. Besides making my cover, you have also been a source of information and patiently answered my questions.
Alex Grayson, I don’t even know where I’d be without you. As soon as I decided to publish my work, you were there every step of the way. I’m so glad I found you! Thank you for cheering me on and being so supportive. I’m lucky to have you as a friend.
Thank you Imy Santiago for your support and willingness to listen to my questions. Your encouragement means the world to me.
Thank you to all the bloggers who took a chance and helped me promote Indisputable. Each time I received an email from one of you made my day. The kind words and encouragement were invaluable in pushing me to keep going.
Thank you to all my family; to thank you all individually would take pages. Mom, Dad, Becky, Rocky, Angela, Steve, Paul, Amber, Joe, Michael, Antonio, Gavin, Dominic, Addy, Audrey, Kevin, Jessica, and Kara—I love all of you. Thank you for the supporting texts and phone calls, and just being who you are. My book may not be to your tastes, but you support me nonetheless.
And finally, thank you to my readers. Every single one of you who has picked up my book means the world to me. You gave a brand new author a chance, and because of that, I’m eternally grateful.
About the Author
A.M. Wilson fell in love with writing in second grade when she won a young writers’ contest. She spent the years following carrying around a spiral notebook, which she filled with poetry and short stories detailing the dramatics of being a young girl. When she hit her college years, she set the notebooks down and fell in love with reading romance novels. She may have attended college four separate times, in four different fields, but always knew in her heart writing was her true passion. She grew up in Duluth, Minnesota and spent her summers in the cold waters of Lake Superior, but relocated to the Twin Cities with the love of her life and has two spirited children who make her world go round.
A.M. Wilson loves to hear from her readers. Connect with her on:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/A.M.WilsonAuthor
Twitter: @AMWilsonAuthor
Blog: amwilsonbooks.wordpress.com
Shatter Me
Alex Grayson
Chapter One
Jaded Hollow, OH – 6 miles ahead
I release a sigh, exhausted and nervous about my next stop on my long and tedious journey.
I’ve been driving since eight this morning, with a couple of stops in-between for restroom breaks and gas stops. It’s coming up on nine at night. I need to keep moving. I don’t want to give him the opportunity to find me. Him, being Steven, my worse nightmare, my worse fear, my husband. Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice in the matter because my gas tank is running on fumes and my pocket book is getting low. I need to find a way to make a little cash before I move on.
My arms hurt from holding onto the steering wheel for so long and my legs are cramping from the constant push of the gas pedal. I’m so hungry I fear my internal organs will dry up and turn to dust due to lack of nourishment. I’m exhausted to the point where my eyes have that sandy, papery, gritty feel and I’m worried I might dose off behind the wheel.
Needless to say I’m ready to get out of my cramped, beat up old car that I bought for five hundred dollars at the beginning of my unplanned but wanted trip. All I want to do is get a quick bite to eat, fall into bed, sleep like the dead, and not get up for a week. I know finding a place to eat won’t be a problem. I’ve seen signs for Maggie's Diner up ahead in Jaded Hollow, which state it is an All-night diner. It’s finding a place to crash that will be an issue.
With about fifty dollars to my name I can’t even afford to rent a hotel for the night. Sleeping in my cramped car is definitely not appealing, but I have done it before and am prepared to do it again. I just hope I can find work in this middle of nowhere town that is to be my home for a short amount of time. Sleeping in my car for a few nights I can deal with, but I really don't want to wake up with a crick in my neck and cramps in my legs every day for weeks at a time until I can afford a place to stay.
It is dark out so I can't really see the landscape around me. From what I can see from the light of the moon and the shine of my headlights I am surrounded by woods. The road is curvy and there are a few small hills.
I slow my car when I reach a wooden sign that welcomes me to Jaded Hollow, OH. It looks old and the scene on it represents the country town I’m about to enter; a farmhouse with silos sitting behind it and a field of corn.
I speed back up, anxious to reach my destination. About a mile past the welcome sign I start taking notice of my surroundings. It’s important to familiarize myself with where I’ll be staying just in case I need to flee again. He may come for me and I need to know where I’ll be safe.
Large houses start appearing. The only reason I can see them is because their porch lights illuminate the front stoops. Many of the houses are at least a couple hundred feet from the road and sit on large amounts of land.
Further down the road bright orange street lights dot both sides of the road. Smaller houses start popping up on either side of the road, along with businesses thrown in here and there. There’s a post office on one side and an outdoor shop on the other.
There’s also the Jaded Hollow Public Library, a red brick building with a large, colorful brick book that sits right out front. There is a gazebo that’s off to the left and a small swing set and slide right beside it. I can picture a mother sitting in the gazebo reading her book as a little girl swings close by. With the image in my head, my stomach cramps and my eyes sting. I immediately push the image away before it has the chance to cripple me.
As I slow down to a stop at what appears to be the only red light in town, I notice a building that houses three motorcycles and five cars. The building sits on the corner of County Road 14 and Big Bulge Road. There are several lit advertisement signs on the windows and front of the white building, most of which are advertising different types of beer. The largest lit sign reads ‘Jaxon's Pub’.
The light turns green and I creep along. Up ahead on the left a simple red sign shows that I have finally arrived at Maggie's Diner. There are several cars parked in front of the light blue building.
I park my car next to an old red pick-up truck, pull the key out of the ignition and lay my head back on the headrest. Not only is my car running on empty, but I am as well. With a deep breath I force myself to grab my purse and drop my keys inside. The air is nippy when
I step out of my car so I grab my gray hooded sweatshirt that shows the Cookie Monster chomping on cookies, and slip it on.
As I approach the entrance a man appears out of nowhere and startles me. I automatically allow my russet brown hair to fall in front of my face on the right side. This is born out of habit from trying to hide the hideous scar that runs from the corner of my right eye to my ear. People tend to stare, which makes encounters uncomfortable. So, to avoid any tense moments I learned real quick to hide behind a wall of hair anytime I am in the vicinity of people.
I peek at him from under my eyelashes. He looks to be in his early 30's. He wears a black hat that he turned backwards. His hair is dark and I can tell that he keeps his hair short by the stubble that peaks out from just below the hat by his ears. I can’t really see from the lack of light, but it appears he has dark eyes. Although he sports a five o'clock shadow you can see that he keeps his face clean-shaven. He has on a dark gray t-shirt with a black thermal shirt underneath that covers bulging muscles. He also has on a pair of worn form-fitting blue jeans and a pair of tan work boots. Overall, he is a very good looking man. At another time and place I would really appreciate his looks. But not now, I never want anything to do with a man again.
When I glance at him, he smiles and says, “Hey, sorry if I startled you.” His voice is rough, but still holds a smooth edge to it.
I duck my head a little and reply. “That's okay, I'm just a little jumpy.”
He grabs the handle to the door, opens it, and gestures for me to enter. “Ladies first.”
I notice the hand that holds the handle has a black and blue web tattoo. It starts at the center of the back of his hand and extends all the way to his fingers. I can’t see his palm, but I’m pretty sure that the tattoo continues to wrap around to the front of his hand. The webbing also wraps around each of his fingers. I briefly wonder what the significance is but then shake my head. It’s none of my business.